Round Two, Cowboy
by bwoobin
Summary: In the end, Spike Spiegel welcomed death with opened arms. What he didn't expect, though, was to wake up in another man's home.


It would been nice to live the adventurous and lividlife.

It would been nice if loneliness didn't seem to be so devastatingly boring.

It would been nice. It would been nice to have a companion or two.

But companions are for suckers. In the era of 2071, no one wanted to be with you. So it was best to live your life in solitude.

A flock of light blond hair with blue frosted tips was covered in a black cloak as the heavy, persistent rain poured down on the planet. A sneeze erupted from the owner of said hair, and it echoed around him. The pale male clutched the cloak closer to his lean figure as he trudged on, not searching for anything in particular.

It was a day. Just a day to walk. A day where it had to rain, though it didn't stop him. A walk is a walk, and a walk is refreshing, nevermind the weather. His face was covered mostly by the hood, the only thing that was barely noticeable were the large safety goggles that was placed on his face.

The icy cold raindrops pelted the young man's figure as he approached something out of the ordinary. It was a tall, tall skyscraper (possibly the tallest one in Mars). As the male made his way towards the steps, he looked up. The enormous stained glass windows were shattered.

Then he looked down.

More glass. And a broken, bloodied body.

He sped-walked over to the stifc body that laid on the blood-stained stairs leading up to the skyscraper. He got down on one knee and immediately felt for a pulse on the neck.

Surprisingly, there was a pulse. Though, it was extremely faint.

Gingerly, the young male cupped the stranger's head with his hands to find out the identity of the dying person. It clearly showed that it was man. His features consisted of a long, straight nose, thin lips, and a remarkable jawline (the blonde male envied him a little bit). He also envied the man's head that was full of hair. Pitch, black hair. With hints of green. The man was soaked in his own pool of blood.

And then soon, the younger male started to panic.

He cursed loudly and repeatedly as he frantically fussed over the possible dead body, not knowing what to exactly do. As he did so, blood started to get on his gloved hands, so he cursed some more.

The young man fought between the decision of leaving this man to die in the rain. Or to take him back to where he currently resided and at least take him to a hospital. He was torn between the two very important choices, and he couldn't bring himself to make a choice.

If he chose the second decision, someone's life would be in his hands.

If chose first, he would live with pure guilt.

Atlas had a relatively good heart, so he chose.

This sucked for Atlas. He should've just left him in the damn rain.

As he lugged him back to his home, he took note that the raven-haired man was very lean, more lean than he. And ridiculously tall. Despite his lean stature, the man washeavy.

Atlas kicked open his door with his shoe and let out a loud grunt. As he entered, he made his way immediately over to his couch, and dropped the man. Atlas crouched over and rested his hands over his cloaked knees, panting and sweating profusely.

Never again, he thought. Never again.

As he shrugged off his cloak, he observed the currently bleeding man.

Now, Atlas was no doctor. But, he knew a thing or two in the medical field.

Atlas got a quick look at the man's wounds.

He decided that he did not know a thing or two in the medical field.

What the in the blazing Hell did this guy get himself into, Atlas wondered deliriously. For a man to be this cut up with several bullet wounds, he had to be in a gang.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Atlas is going to die.

No, he'll just take him to the hospital. It'll be their problem then, not his. He wouldn't be responsible at all.

Actually, that just crushes his morals.

Yes, taking this bleeding, dying man to the hospital was the most crucial and sensible thing to do in this situation, even if it'll cost him some cash. But, who's to say that Atlas couldn't do this himself?

His stubborn pride got in the way of a lot of things, the possibility of saving someone's life is going to add on to the list.

Fuck it, he'll give it a go.

Atlas slid over to his closet and ripped the two doors open, revealing a couple of outfits, mostly jackets and boots. As he searched for the outfit he wanted, he shimmied out of his clothes, soon standing in the complete bare nude, proudly. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled it out and immediately got dressed.

This particular young man had weird taste in fashion. But who doesn't nowadays? On his bodywas a light bluescrub gown that stopped above his knees was hugged snuggly around his neck, bubble-like sleeves that were made out of clear worbla, a white apron, and black leather boots that accompanied his leggings.

Atlas tugged on his long, blue latex gloves on his hands with a grin as he peered down at his new patient below.

He knew this wasn't going to end well.

After long, long hours of video-watching, crying, book-reading, swearing, and tantrums, Atlas became successful in the end.

He managed to close all the man's brutal wounds and organs, as well as giving him enough painkillers. Heck, he did the job of an actual doctor. And it was all for free price.

Luckily for the younger male, Atlas had the stomach to withstand such an agonizing surgery. It was quite fun, he admitted. If only the man did not die on him, Atlas will claim himself as victorious.

His old, burgundy couch was soiled with blood, as well as his clothes. Grimacing, he rushed off into his room, changed out of the nurse uniform back into his normal clothing, and rushed back out to the shirtless and beaten up man. On the floor, he sat by his side and examined his resting face attentively.

Atlas wondered how long it would take for him to awaken, he grew anxious by the minutes. He wanted to know everything about this man. Where he was from, if he was okay, and what the hell he was doing to obtain scars like those.

In the meantime, Atlas would just have to wait.


End file.
